My Ex-Boss John Is A Dick

"SEMPER FAKE"

The only thing missing from our discussion the night he fired me was a lot of talk about his military career.  It was one more reason my dismissal seemed so unreal.  You could DEPEND on long, rambling stories about his time in the Marine Corps, and if you were a glutton for punishment and didn't want to work much that night, you could bait him endlessly and keep him talking for, literally, hours.

    No exaggeration: one night he FELL ASLEEP while talking to us about his military career.  It was only for a second--but when you get right down to it, most priceless moments are.  (His eyes snapped open comically and he decided it was time to go home.)

    Here's the thing, though.  For all the talk he did about the time he served in the Corps, for every life-lesson he passed on using a battlefield exercise as an analogy, for all the yarns he spun about how John-Wayne he was back in the day...it just wasn't likely.  I compare this skepticism to my feelings about Mazda automobiles.  I mean, you've HEARD of Mazdas, you THINK you've passed one on the highway, but you don't know one person who owns one.

    In short, I don't think John T. has ever MET a Marine, let alone been one himself.

    He would go on at length about how he led a platoon of steel-eyed men on a drill through simulated battle conditions--complete with helicopter drops, live rounds, smoke grenades, and mortar explosions kicking dirt sky-high...yet he couldn't get six women to show up on time for first shift.

    Now, I've got great respect for anyone who has joined the armed forces.  I would have served my country gladly when I was younger; it's just a shame the military is run by the government.  (I love this country, in case you're wondering.  Like most of us, I show my support by willingly paying taxes and buying stamps.)

    Anyway, I've met a few Marines in my day, and when I first took over on third shift, I worked with one who had served during Operations: Desert Shield and Storm.  Matter of fact, I took the supervisor title AWAY from this guy, who was bumped back down to CSR and never let me forget it until they fired him for refusing to work one day.  You want to talk about a grudge?  Anyway, one night I made the mistake of asking him, "So, were you a Marine?"

    "STILL AM," came the instant, offended reply.

    Now THAT'S a goddamn Marine.

    If you asked John T. if he was once a Marine, he would nod idiotically and spit tobacco in a Semper Fi coffee mug.

    John T. is exactly the sort of Marine that would have been fragged in Vietnam two weeks into his tour.  I can see him sitting on the can, reading Stars and Stripes (certainly not Playboy, because he knows what a naked woman looks like), while some G.I. he almost got killed in the jungle earlier that day lobs a willy-pete into his lap from outside the latrine and IMMOLATES him.  That's when the real Marines in the compound rush over and roast hot dogs and light joints off his flaming carcass.  (For some reason I also see a guy named Animal accidentally burning his fingers while cutting off John's smoking left ear with a K-bar before adding it to his necklace of enemy ears.)

    All I'm saying is, it's hard to convince others you were a soldier when you look and act like a shoe salesman.